No Man Ever Steps in the Same River Twice
by thevoicesfromazkaban
Summary: All Harry wanted was to escape from the world that had betrayed him, even after he had saved them. So, he fled to Muggle London, and guess who he became neighbors with? HP/SH/MH RW/LB HG/NL FW/GW/DM BZ/SF JW/Anthea Alive!Dumbles Alive!Sirius Lots of people who died in the Final Battle lived in this story. There will be bashing! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS


A/N: Thanks, all for checking this story out. It is a Harry Potter/Sherlock (BBC) crossover.

SUMMARY: All Harry wanted was to escape from the world that had betrayed him, even after he had saved them. So, he fled to Muggle London, and guess who he became neighbors with? HP/SH/MH RW/LB HG/NL FW/GW/DM BZ/SF JW/Anthea Alive!Dumbles Alive!Sirius Lots of people who died in the Final Battle lived in this story. There will be bashing! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

WARNINGS: MPreg, Slash, Het, 3some, Violence, Abuse (mentions of), Sex

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock, nor do I make any money from the writing of this fic. No copyright infringement is intended.

No Man Ever Steps in the Same River Twice

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."

― Heraclitus

Chapter 1

Flat 34d

Mycroft Holmes was walking home from his office, back to his flat. As he walked, he thought about his work from that day. He had fixed the elections in three countries, brought down a mob, and assassinated a president because his interests were not in the interests of the British Government. All in all, not a bad day.

As Mycroft approached the building his flat was in, he noticed the smells of cooking wafting down onto the street from an open window, one story below his penthouse. He heard laughing, as well, and assumed that this was also coming from the flat below his own.

So, curious, he walked slowly up the stairs, attempting to listen in on the conversation. As he got closer, he cursed as board creaked under his foot.

Then, he heard something he had hoped he might not have to hear today. "Do come in, brother dear."

Mycroft heaved a heavy sigh, straightened his shoulders, and walked into flat 34d. The flat itself was nice, with walls painted a bright-ish grey and a large window on the wall opposite the fireplace, and one in the kitchen as well. The living room had a fireplace in which he could have sworn he saw green flames, before they turned normal not a second later. The furniture, a dark shade of green-almost-black which went very well with the walls, was a couch, loveseat, and two wingback chairs turned slightly facing both each other and the fire. There was a circular dining table, a wood that was stained black, with ten chairs surrounding it. There were also two doors on either side of the fireplace, leading, presumably, to the two rooms this flat contained. The kitchen was very nice, with all modern, stainless steel appliances, a fully stocked pantry with foods from around the world (Mycroft only knew this because the pantry was open at that moment), a double oven, and the largest fridge Mycroft had seen in somewhere not a restaurant. The kitchen also had dark grey and black granite countertops, and a bar, made of the same wood as the dining table, and six barstools, one of which was currently occupied by the one person Mycroft had hoped not to see today.

Said barstool was occupied by Sherlock Holmes.

But it was none of this, really, that caught and held Mycroft's attention. No, what, or rather, who held Mycroft's attention was a beautiful man, who one could mistake for an older teen, who was cooking the food Mycroft had smelled outside. He was short for his age, or so Mycroft guessed, standing about five and a half feet. He had long black hair, currently in a braid, which hung down to the middle of his back. His face, angular and lacking baby fat, was…perfect, in Mycroft's opinion. His eyes, though, were his best feature. They were the brightest, most vibrant green that Mycroft had ever seen, and they swirled with knowledge and power, but had a graveness to them that suggested this man had seen too much for one person.

The man was wearing a tight fitting black long-sleeve shirt and designer skinny jeans that hugged his hips just right. As the man turned, Mycroft caught sight of the most perfect ass he had ever seen.

Mycroft got out of his stupor quickly, telling himself that his work did not allow these feelings, nor did they allow him to act on them, and, even if it did, this man could not possibly want one such as Mycroft.

His eyes caught Sherlock's figure again, and he sighed. 'It's going to be a long night,' he thought.

.:OoO:.

Sherlock Holmes had been attempting to break into his brother's flat, again, to find the files he kept on certain criminals, looking for a case, when he heard a voice call from behind him. "Is that your flat?" the boy asked.

Sherlock turned, startled slightly at being caught, and eyed the boy behind him. No, he could tell from the grave look in the person's eyes that this was a man, not a boy, contrary to what his body would make one think.

"I thought not," the man said. "Well, I am making dinner for three, so you might as well follow me. You can stay for the food if you so choose, or not." With that, the man walked off to the flat just below Mycroft's.

Sherlock, too curious not to, followed the man into his flat and looked around. All in all, it was a nice flat.

"Name's Harry, by the way," the man called form where he had set to work in the kitchen. "What's yours?"

"Sherlock," he replied before he could help himself.

"Ah, so you're that detective who helps Scotland Yard, and who has that blog, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded, again before he could help himself. It was then that Sherlock noticed the enticing aroma coming from the kitchen that, for the first time in years, made him actually want to consume something other than his drug or alcohol of choice.

He noticed the smirk on the man…Harry's face just before it went away, as though he knew what Sherlock had thought. "Spag 'n' balls, tonight," Harry said.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

Noticing this, the man sighed. In the voice one typically associates with a butler talking to his master, he said, "Spaghetti and meatballs, in a tomato sauce, with French bread and a wine of your choice, milord," and bowed.

Sherlock couldn't help the snicker. Harry laughed.

They waited in silence, Harry cooking, and Sherlock moving to a barstool, before they heard a board creak just outside the open door of Harry's flat.

"Do come in, brother dear," Sherlock said.

They heard a heavy sigh, before Mycroft walked into the flat. He looked around for a few seconds, before his eyes landed on Harry, and stayed for more time than necessary. As Harry turned away from Mycroft, Sherlock caught the small smirk on his face.

Sherlock snickered. 'This should be fun,' he thought. He didn't let himself think about how Harry made him ignore his normal mask and speak what was on his mind.

.:OoO:.

Harry had begun to make dinner, waiting for both of the Holmes brothers to show up, when he heard someone creeping past his door. He knew it was Sherlock, so he let the detective go up to Mycroft's room, before he followed and asked if the flat was his. Harry offered Sherlock dinner before leaving to go back to his own flat and make sure nothing burned.

Sherlock followed, as predicted, and they talked for a bit until Mycroft came in. Harry knew that Mycroft was appreciating his features, and smirked as he turned away from Mycroft.

He heard Mycroft sigh again, before the elder Holmes said, "Sherlock, pleasant to see you, as always," dripping with sarcasm. "Would you please make introductions?"

Sherlock snickered once again, before pointing to Harry. "Harry." He pointed to Mycroft. "Mycroft."

Harry noticed Mycroft's raised brow at his brother's antics.

It was then that Mycroft's phone went off. Harry had been expecting this and said to them, "It's for me," and held out his hand for Mycroft to give him the phone.

He saw Mycroft take the phone from his pocket, and heard him gasp as he recognized the number. Harry waved his hand impatiently, but Mycroft did nothing. So, Harry walked over and plucked the phone from his hand, and answered it.

"Hello, Lizzy." He heard the gasp from Mycroft.

"I thought you were still calling my 'your royal highness," the lady said from the other side of the line.

"I'm just trying to impress Mycroft. He knows who I am talking to."

"Ah, so you decided to act on your feelings then, have you?"

"What feelings do you speak of, madam?" Harry asked.

"You know which ones. Would you like me to inform him of your past, Harry?"

"It would be much appreciated. I believe it is alright for the British Government to know. But make sure the PM doesn't find out."

"Of course. If you'll hand him the phone. Oh, and next time, don't use magic to arrange calls like this. You know how much I hate manipulation."

"Again, just trying to impress."

Harry handed the phone to Mycroft, who had regained his mask of disinterest. Harry tuned out the conversation Mycroft and Lizzy were having, just cooking dinner for the three of them.

"You called her royal highness 'Lizzy'," Mycroft said.

Harry nodded. "We're good friends, actually. That meeting that she arranged with you is related to the terrorist attacks that ended a few years ago. I think I'll attend as well, to fill in some details she may be fuzzy about."

Mycroft just nodded.

A few minutes later, Harry announced that dinner was ready.

.:OoO:.

A/N: So, thoughts? PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL WHETHER THIS IS WORTH CONTINUING!


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